


Let Me Lead

by hamonpower



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-06
Updated: 2014-06-06
Packaged: 2018-02-03 16:14:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1750772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hamonpower/pseuds/hamonpower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke mourns all he's lost, Fenris tries something a little different to take his mind off things (possible spoilers)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Me Lead

**Author's Note:**

> written for Alina who is an asshole and I hate her

It was well past midnight. All of Hightown was quiet, like the busy streets and the dogs and all the squabbling merchants were paying a moment of silence in reverence to the moon. It did not so much as hang in the sky, but stand proud and shine bright. Must be that time of the year.

Garrett Hawke, O Great Champion of Kirkwall, sat quietly on a stair and stared out the window across the room at that moon. Tonight was one of those nights- a night when the memories of his father, his little sister, his mother, and sometimes even his brother, could not be drowned out by the comfort of his bed.

He kept imagining his father’s voice, deep and stern, yet warm and kind, telling him to stay strong, to never bow down, to protect his family. He remembered Bethany’s humming, her diplomacy, her smiling face and her pure spirit. His mother’s pride and the way she lived without regrets, never once cursing herself for running away with an apostate— a free mage, and bearing two more. Though Carver was not gone, he was far, far away, slaying beasts and protecting the people; becoming a Hawke of his own, so to speak.

Garrett never dared to remember the last he saw any of them. It seemed the Hawke family could not say goodbye without leaving a mess and scars.

So he sat, and mourned, and wallowed in his own regret and his self-hatred, which he masked oh-so-well with quips and laughter. No matter how many times he was told not to blame himself, he still felt the sting of guilt. 

"Hawke- are you all right?" a voice (that was more attuned to anger and venom than caring and softness) asked from the top of the stairwell. Hawke felt a rush of cold run through him and immediately sat straight up, a well-practiced smirk spreading on his face. 

"I was just inspecting the fingerprints on the window. Maker, you can see them all the way from here. Bodahn must be too short to clean the upper panes," he replied, turning to the elf standing a few steps above him. 

"The moon is high and the world is resting. Shouldn’t you do the same?" Fenris asked, beginning to walk down the stairs. 

"I couldn’t sleep. Must be demons," Hawke said sarcastically. Fenris scoffed. Joking about demons didn’t upset him so much anymore. At least not when it was Hawke. He’d proven himself time and time again to be no prey to demons.

The lanky elf stood next to his sitting companion, looking off at the moon, too. “What are you doing awake?” Hawke asked, trying to redirect.

"I was a… body guard long enough to know when someone was lurking about in the night. You’re not as quiet as you’d like to think." Fenris said with the slightest hint of a chuckle. Hawke loved those secret laughs that would sneak out of Fenris’s mouth at times. "Something is on your mind."

Hawke sighed and watched as the elf sat down next to him. The moon gleamed off his white hair like magic, and his scars like mirrors.

"I was thinking about… all I’ve lost." he finally surrendered. "All the things I could have done to save my family. It’s hard to sleep when ghosts are nipping at your heels." There was a pause. "I know my father would have been able to save them all."

Fenris scooted closer. “You never told me how he—how your father passed.” he stated. To which Hawke replied, “I sure haven’t,” darkly, and said no more. There was a long silence between them. Hawke almost wished Fenris would just leave him to his pity party, but the damned elf always was indignant.

He stood again, running a hand through Hawke’s hair as he did. He walked all the way down the stairwell, and turned again to face the Champion. He was determined to take Hawke’s mind off of this, off what he could never change. He offered his hand and cracked one of his half-smiles at Hawke. 

"Remember all those years ago," he began, "when I told Varric that I danced through Danarius’s mansion with gleeful abandon." Hawke’s face was one shade of amusement and two shades of confusion.

"That sounds like a lie you’d tell," he replied.

Fenris took hold of Hawke’s hand, his grip rough but not cruel. “Between you and me, man to handsome man,” he cooed, “it was no lie.” He tugged Hawke’s arm, and Hawke followed, clumsily stepping down the stairs. He was bewildered, to say the least. Perhaps I passed out on the steps and this is only a surreal dream. That seemed the most likely.

Fenris pulled Hawke to the center of the foyer, then pushed his body up against the him. Placing one hand on Hawke’s hip and the other grasping his hand, he smiled at the mage.

Hawke was red in the face, a rare and beautiful thing. Fenris made a note to remember him like this. “Let me lead.” he said. Hawke did not argue.

Fenris, who was tall for an elf, rested his forehead on Hawke’s shoulder, and began leading him around the room, spinning slowly and gently. He was surprisingly graceful, while Hawke stumbled like a toddler as they paced in a simple waltz. After a few minutes, he began to get the hang of it, and Fenris began going faster.

Whatever music he was hearing in his head that gave him such rhythm, Hawke was unaware of; But Fenris’s grace made up for it. “You’re doing well,” he said kindly, and a goofy smile spread across Hawke’s face against his will. “You almost couldn’t tell that I’ve never danced in my life,” he said with that snarky tone. Fenris laughed. _Two in a row- that’s a record._ Hawke thought.

It wasn’t long before their droning waltz turned into a spinning march, a rhythmic skipping, a well-choreographed trot. Hawke was now hearing the music in Fenris’s head. The two were smiling, seeming to forget all the darkness in their lives for this moment.

They accidentally woke the dog, knocked over a vase, and tripped on the rug a few times as well. While they hardly spoke aside from "sorry"'s and "whoops"'s, it seemed as though they were having an entire conversation. _We both deserve to be lighthearted. We've both been through enough to earn nights like this._ Though Hawke’s steps were messy, they were in perfect harmony. When Fenris stopped for breath, Hawke was still grinning, his heart racing from the exertion- or possibly from the fun he was having.

"I l-" Fenris paused, struggling with the words, "I like seeing you this way," His eyes were pleading, begging Hawke to understand what he meant but would never say. _Your happiness is my happiness, your grief is my grief._

Hawke seemed to be glowing. And he may very well have been- mages were strange like that. He pulled Fenris into a warm, tight embrace, just like his father used to give to Leandra after templar scares, loud fights, and sometimes, when dinner was especially good.

Fenris allowed himself this moment. He breathed in the smell of the Champion’s house coat, the skin beneath. Hawke kissed the top of his head and said, quietly and genuinely, “Thank you for this,” into his hair. He held him for what seemed to be forever, still rocking gently to that song in their heads.


End file.
